(on scratch paper)
You know, it shouldn't be this hard. Even this, now, right now, my mind feels like its running circles in my head. there's a sensation when you're looking at a lighthouse from a distance; it appears that its simply flashing, pulsing, like a metronome, constantly and directly at you. Those are my thoughts now. It's how they're coming to me, like little blips on a lurching storm-tossed horizon i need to get closer.
(next sheet)
It just happened again. The flash and the darkness. I need to be closer. I need to be at the base of it, or better yet right there inside the head of the thing on the catwalk around the bulb, running around it at the same speed, looking right at it with my eyes jammed open and my whole body, hair-tip to toe-nail feeling the heat of the one million, twenty million, two hundred million candles, whatever it is, however strong it may be, it's blinding.
(out of paper)
It needs to be. Blinding. Or binding...
"The difference between the almost-right or and the right word is the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning."
~ Mark Twain
